The Wendigo
by Hitomi Zotz
Summary: The dark origins of Barthlomew "Butch" Cavendish and Latham Cole, brothers changed in the desert by a chance find of a silver horde, one to become a bloodthirsty outlaw and the other a thieving lawman. Both driven by a desire to prove themselves in a dark and ever changing land where the wild ways are slowly dying.


Death. I knew it had to come eventually but eventually was the key word, I did not expect it to arrive while I was young and foolish yet here it was. It was long, sore, torturous and entirely deserved, at least for me it was. My mouth was dry but I could still taste her treacherous lips, my eyes couldn't open any longer, the sun was too bright on them, they were dry as well, sticky and blistering in the heat, she was there too, a glimmer of fire, amber and crimson against the sun's punishing white.

"Bart..."

I tensed at the voice as with it came my old friend guilt. I had led him astray and gotten him into trouble again, this time I had not meant to but I felt guilty all the same. He was my brother; of course he was going to follow after me even if it meant charging blindly into the unforgiving wilderness. Silly Latham, didn't he know I was a lost cause? He was smart, cunning, not that I was without my own intelligence but Latham had a way with words, a charm that I lacked, he had such potential, and here it was wasting in the desert.

"You shouldn't have come," I snarled quietly before I let out a rasping cough. The thirst was the worst; I remembered stories of men being driven to madness in the desert by their thirst, following tricks of their mind into doom as they chased after a fantastical oasis. My throat burned and every time I dared to swallow it was like there was fire roaring down inside me. My lips were cracked and bloody from my repeated attempts to lick moisture from them, the worst thing was that I was beginning to savour the drops of blood beading on my lips as it was the only nourishment I could get. I swallowed down a bitter laugh at that thought, exhaling another cough instead, enjoying the taste of my own blood; yes the thirst was making me mad indeed.

"No, I shouldn't have let you lead," Latham retorted before he too coughed as the desert dust tickled his lungs. I couldn't tell if he was being serious or making an ill attempt at humour. The guilt stung me again, he was right; I had led us here to our premature, slow deaths in the desert. We would be forgotten here, food for the vultures. I could hear them circling above, patient scavengers, they could bide their time, it was as admirable as it was revolting.

I sucked in a breath, tensing again as I sensed a change in our surroundings. A new noise, feet moving along the ever changing sand, predator or prey? I couldn't tell which as I strained my ears to listen, cautioning myself that the madness might have just reached a new level. There was a snicker indicating a horse, then a soft muffle as its rider dismounted.

"Help us." Two pathetic, desperate words from Cooper let me know that the person was near. I wanted to laugh again, how could it be that we had fallen so close to humanity and potential sanctuary? There I thought us doomed to die in obscurity and wilderness, and God help me, part of me had wanted to end that way. Away from her and her betrayal, from them and their endless mockery, yes I had wanted to just die and forget it all, it was why I had ridden so fast and so far.

There was a voice, young, male and of the injun tongue. I sighed, no rescue then, probably just another form of a painful and lingering death, scalping instead of thirst. Alright, I was being harsh, he was just a babbling boy after all, but I had heard the stories of what the injuns could do. My papa had taught me enough to know that they were a dangerous lot, they had everything to lose after all, everything to fight for and they were becoming desperate because we had numbers and advances in weaponry that they did not. To them I imagined every white man was a threat, an enemy and so it was only wise to regard them as the same if one wanted to survive them.

I heard his feet retreating and sagged in the sand hoping I could just fade away now and avoid whatever misfortunes he might return with.

"Bart no more running after this," Latham spoke up firmly. I heard a familiar tone in his voice; he was using it more often with me, his big brother, man in charge tone. Papa was still warm in the ground and his belt licks still fresh on my back, I wasn't going to welcome someone else stepping into his shoes readily, Latham was going to have to fight for his authority.

I refused to answer him, giving myself up to the desert instead but it wasn't so easy. She haunted me, her jasmine perfume, soft, lilac eyes and silky, carmine hair, it was too easy to recall, but so was her mocking laugh and that terrible taunting look on his face. I heard the footsteps returning, more of them this time, some heavier than others and a couple of snorts, they'd brought horses. Hands reached out to me, large, sweaty palms I had no strength to resist, lifting me up to either salvation or death, I could not know. I vowed as I was placed ungracefully onto a horse that if I did survive I would be sure to make her regret it.

As the horse started to move beneath me I slipped into an unpleasant oblivion at last. There she was again, her voice patronising and almost pitying, "Bart...look it's not personal." Yes bitch, it was personal.

* * *

"Bart? Bart. Bart we're going to have to talk about it."

I frowned into my bowl knowing I was being childish; I had almost killed my brother with my foolish anger, he was right to demand an explanation. It was pure luck that the boy had found us and that his tribe had, for idiotic reasons I would never understand or be dumb enough to question, decided not to kill us but to save us instead. We had spent three days with them trying to get our strength back, they had kept Latham and I sheltered, watered and fed. Today was the first I had exited the tepee I had been healing in and whilst I welcomed the fresh air the sun still hurt my weak eyes, forcing me to keep my hat down at an angle to shade my face.

"You didn't have to come Latham," I grumbled to my bowl, it was a gruesome mixture of grain and gristle but I was too hungry to leave it. The tribe that had welcomed us was a small and peaceful one; they survived by dwelling near a river choosing to fish and scavenge from the nearby plant life. They owned no beasts and kept no crops, it was a barbaric way to live and yet it was humble, freeing even but I did not envy them. I did not want civilisation anymore but I did not want this kind of mundane and passive life either.

"Bartholomew what the hell happened? What made you go on a suicidal dash into the desert?"

I shrugged before running my finger around the inside of the bowl, flinching when I snagged the tip on a splinter. I lifted it up and sucked out the blood, there was that salty taste again, my only source of nourishment in the desert, it should have sickened me now but it didn't. I found it comforting, it was familiar unlike the mush of grain and old meat, at least the blood was smooth, no stray chunks, and it was consistent, hot and salted, rather than a variation of sweet, burnt and soggy. I let my finger drop from my mouth, horrified by my thoughts, and looked up at Latham at last.

He was dusty from the desert, his dark clothes spoiled with dirt, and his dark bristles were uneven and growing in all directions, he needed a good bath and shave. For him it would be easy enough to tidy up, he could be respectable so easily, attractive even but for me it was not so simple, the grime never seemed to come off me.

"Look at me Latham," I said frostily, "take a good long look, I used to think there was nothing but ugliness here, then she made me think different but it was a lie Latham, all of it. She lied and she lied and she lied, but you know what?" I quipped sharply as I held his disapproving brown gaze. "She was wrong, there's something here Latham, take a look, do you see it? There's vengeance here, and she's going to see that and she's going to know she was wrong about me."

"Are you talking about that woman you wrote to me about?" Latham queried with a look of surprise. "Bart I know you were fond of her but...vengeance? What the hell happened? What did she do?"

"She made me think she loved me," I spat the words out like a curse as I turned my gaze back to my bowl. I was disgusted with myself for ever having been so naive, I was scarred all over, marked by my papa's violent idea of discipline, and plagued with a slice in my lip I'd always had, a mark to separate me from everyone else, just another thing to be ridiculed over, of course she had never loved me. "It was all about the money though," I growled out, "and the favours. All the time she was taking from me she was giving it to someone else, that bastard Graham Woods."

"And that's a reason to try and kill yourself slowly in the desert?" Latham quipped dryly. He didn't understand, he had never met Red, he didn't know how alluring she was, I had tried to tell him once in a letter but I wasn't good at writing and I didn't want his judgement and scorn over the matter. I had meant for them to meet at last upon his arrival in town but then I had found her tangled up with Woods, bastard.

I turned to face him properly with a glower. "I just wanted to leave," I spoke the words out coolly, emphasising each one. I had left our home in a hurry, pushing past Latham in my haste to mount a horse and banish Red and Graham's jesting. There was no thought, just a desire to flee the humiliation, it had resulted in an ill-fated trip to unknown land with no water or food, and Latham, just as foolish and fast right behind me, determined to make me stop. Even when the first night had fallen and Latham had tried to urge me back, pointing out we'd travelled far enough and had no supplies, I had ignored him and continued on. On and on into the desert until my horse gave up and even then I continued on, ignoring Latham's desperate pleas. I could have killed us both with my stubbornness but against the odds we had survived and I knew Latham was right, I couldn't run again, it was cowardly and it had solved nothing. So I would have to return but it wouldn't be in shame or disgrace, only Red was going to feel those things.

Latham looked ready to scold but before he could a small, inquisitive cough drew our attention to the spectator behind us. The boy was almost our shadow; he looked at us like we were exotic creatures, curiosity and pride mingling in his brown stare. There was something else there too, a small spark of greed that grew from the curiosity, he had saved us and he wanted some thanks, told himself it was only proper, one good deed deserves another after all.

I saw how the boy's eyes continually flickered to Latham's silver pocket watch, a gift from papa, praise for getting a good education, it was Latham's favourite possession and he fiddled with it almost obsessively, swinging it on its chain and opening and closing it repeatedly. I hated the thing; every time he clasped it shut I was reminded of how papa had made it clear that Latham was better than me, how Latham was educated, loved and favoured. The unmarked child, the perfect son inside and out. It should have made me hate Latham but I couldn't, he loved me enough to charge after me into the desert without food or water so how could I not love him back?

The boy's eyes flickered to the watch prompting Latham to pluck it up and push it open teasingly. I gritted my teeth as I heard him clasp it shut again and wondered why he felt the need to mock our young rescuer.

"What do you want boy?" I queried calmly, trying to keep my anger from my voice though it was hard. Having him near all the time was annoying, during the three days I had spent in the tepee I had been tormented by his inquisitive face looking in constantly, even once when I was trying to relieve myself. He was obsessed with us and yet fearful of us too, creeping close to the tails of my tattered coat this morning then scurrying off to safety when I had turned a frown upon him. If it weren't for the rest of his tribe being nearby I knew I would have struck him by now.

"He's just making sure we're well Bart," Latham retorted to me in a chiding manner. "Come on, you're done eating, let's go sit by the river, it might calm you down and help you think straight."

I glowered at my brother again, loathing his condescending and commanding manner. I considered a refusal, but then I reminded myself that I had put us in this position and he had a right to be sharp with me. Knowing he could easily be cursing my name and worse, I simply nodded, abandoned my bowl at last and stood up. I followed Latham to the riverbank; it was a wide, lazy river, the sound of its babbling a comfort despite my agitation. I sat down with a deliberate gap between Latham and myself making my irritation clear.

"So what happened Bart?" Latham tried to pry again as we looked to the river as if it might wash away our woes.

"I went to see Rose and I found her in Woods' embrace," I retorted bluntly. "She took one look at me and said it wasn't personal." I paused to let out a bitter laugh at that. "Not personal? So what then? Business? That's all I was to her, just business, frigging whore."

"Well Bart I mean...I don't know her so I don't know what to say..."

"I know," I grumbled, "I just didn't think she was that way with me, fool that I am."

Latham fell silent, he didn't even know what she looked like, to him she was some unknown townswoman I had mentioned briefly in a single letter. He had not known the depth of our relationship, of my infatuation, that to everyone else she was Rose but to me she was Red. At least... I shut my eyes and scowled as I heard Graham's voice, a murmur that was my first indication to the treachery, "you are one fiery woman Red."

I sighed again and chose to sulk and focus on the river, taking in its clear, shimmering form. My eyes widened a fraction when I saw a sparkle beneath the calm current, and I wondered briefly if it was a fish or a mirage but then I saw it again, glinting beneath the sunlight. "Look Latham," I said as I pointed, moving forward with the gesture.

Latham moved quicker, his hand snapping out before mine could, hitting the water with a splash before he wrenched it back up again, his prize caught with ease. He pulled it back and opened his hand forward slowly to study it. "Silver," he marvelled at the lump.

I looked at it in disbelief, how could something so valuable just be lying in the middle of a river in the middle of nowhere? It seemed too good to be true and yet there it was shining harmlessly in Latham's hand. Instantly I turned my attention back to the river, there had to more, another piece to prove this wasn't just a small stroke of luck, but that we had stumbled across something far greater. I looked at the water in frustration hunting for my own piece, Latham couldn't have all the fun, wasn't I the one suffering and in need of something? There! It was half-hidden beneath the soil of the river and I almost missed it. Eager, I plunged forward into the river, striding through it and shoving my hand down, reaching desperately through the dirt until at last I grabbed something solid. I pulled it up triumphantly, wiping the soil off quickly with my free hand. It was smaller than Latham's chunk but undoubtedly silver.

"There must be a source," Latham spoke up quietly.

I looked to my brother and saw in his brown eyes the same thing I had seen in the injun boy's- greed, only in Latham's gaze it burned brighter, he was already plotting and planning. "Out here in the middle of nowhere," I murmured as I hastened out of the river, "it's probably not guarded."

Latham nodded. "Ripe for the taking," he mused, "imagine the possibilities. We could own everything," he continued passionately, "with enough silver we could revolutionise the known world, we could have a business, businesses!"

I shrugged; I had no interest in any of that, businesses were too complicated and risky a venture. Just to be rich would be enough, with enough silver I could buy out the town, have Red and her family at my mercy, I could destroy the lot of them. I could make everyone in that town beg to be my friend after spending years taunting me for my looks, revenge would come quicker and far easier with money. Then after I could finally, for the first time, enjoy life.

We jumped at the sound of a bird squawking nearby. He was back, our little shadow, his sharp, brown eyes on Latham's watch again whilst that wretched crow of his sat on his shoulder crying out angrily as it glared at us as if it knew our thoughts.

Latham pounced upon the poor boy, causing him to jump back with a gasp. Latham waved the silver at him, pointed to it and then gestured to the river. "Where's it from?" he demanded. "Where does it come from?"

The boy looked at him vacantly and shook his head dumbly; of course he didn't understand Latham. I glanced down at the small chunk in my hand before clenching it tightly; one piece wasn't enough but if there were two in the river there had to be more. "Your watch Latham," I suggested quietly.

"What?" Latham glanced back at me with a slight frown. He understood what I was suggesting he just didn't like it; it was his most prized possession after all.

"You could buy a hundred watches or more with silver," I retorted calmly, deliberately dismissing the sentimental value of the thing.

He reached down to his watch, clicking it open to look at its face as he mulled the idea over. All the while the boy looked at it with fascination. I watched him with equal intensity, loathing the fact that I owed my life to the greedy fool. Sure he was a child, dumbly innocent really, but that made it worse, to have my life saved by a mere boy and worse an injun, I had been at his mercy, had he chosen to kill me he could have I had been so weak in the desert. My papa would never have forgiven such weakness, I knew he would have called Latham and I traitors for accepting their hospitality and staying with them for so long and I knew he would have mocked us for being so pathetic and harmless that even a child did not fear us.

I glanced past the boy to the tepees where the tribe dwelled, none of them feared us, they had even allowed us to keep our guns and bullets on us we were so unthreatening to them. There weren't many of them; they were a small part of a larger tribe I thought, just six tepees in total, three families as far as I could tell. They seemed kind and peaceful but papa had always warned that was when they would be more dangerous, when they tricked you into letting your guard down. It was possible they were just toying with Latham and I or waiting for others to come looking for us or for us to lead them to our town, and maybe even help them infiltrate it to look for weaknesses. Of course it was entirely plausible that they were just a simple folk who wanted no trouble but if they knew about the silver they might decide to protect it or they might let others know of it. Worse, they might let others know how they had found us, defenceless and dying in the desert.

I heard the familiar sound of Latham closing his watch at last and watched as he dangled it before the boy on its chain and gestured to it with one finger, then to the boy and then to the silver.

The boy looked at the watch transfixed and nodded slowly.


End file.
